


The Phantom Pepper Challenge

by icandrawamoth



Series: February Ficlet Challenge 2018 [8]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, M/M, Post-Star Wars: A New Hope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 17:59:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13618668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: “I am going to eat that,” Wes declares proudly.“He thinks permanently damaging his taste buds is worth five minutes of trending on the holonet,” Wedge deadpans.





	The Phantom Pepper Challenge

**Author's Note:**

> For February Ficlet Challenge prompt "Character A encounters a very hot pepper."

“I'm telling you, this is a mistake,” Wedge says for the umpteenth time where he's sitting next to Wes in the mess hall, gazing doubtfully at the little wooden box in his hand.

“Don't be a spoilsport, darling,” Wes rejoins, pouring extra sweetness into the last word. “This is going to make me famous.”

“What's going to make Wes famous?” Luke asks with a raised eyebrow as he, Tycho, and Hobbie join them.

“This precious little thing right here,” Wes replies, patting the top of the box.

Wedge only groans. “Another hair-brained scheme, what else?”

“You wound me,” Wes whines.

“What's in the box?” Hobbie asks.

Wes grins brightly, stroking the box again before sliding the lid back and holding it out to show the assembled its contents. “This,” he explains dramatically, “is a Kofriri phantom pepper.”

Luke leans away, wrinkling his nose. “Tell me you're not going to eat that.”

“I am going to eat that,” Wes declares proudly.

“He thinks permanently damaging his taste buds is worth five minutes of trending on the holonet,” Wedge deadpans.

Tycho chuckles. “I have to see this.”

“Prepare to be impressed,” Wes says dramatically. He holds out his datapad to Wedge, the camera facing toward himself. “If you would, my lovely assistant?”

Wedge rolls his eyes but takes the device. “One thing first.” He stands and goes up to the food counter, returning to plonk down a bottle of blue milk on the table. “So you don't die,” he explains, and activates the camera. “Go on.”

“You're so thoughtful, dear.” Wes winks at him and plucks the pepper out of the box by the stem. It's a rather stunning shade of purple and about the size of two fingers. “Here we go.” Like it's nothing, he lifts the thing to his mouth and bites, leaving only the stem, which he drops back into its box.

Wedge peeks around the datapad to watch with his own eyes as Wes chews and swallows, then opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue to show them it's gone.

“Easy peasy,” Wes says. Then he pauses, an odd expression coming over his face.

“Wes?” Luke asks.

“Oh, Force,” Wes mutters, a hand coming up to cover his mouth as his cheeks redden. A moment later, there's a sheen of tears in his eyes. “ _Force_.”

Wedge nudges the bottle of milk toward him, and Wes nudges it back. “Can't drink anything for five minutes or it doesn't count for the challenge,” he mutters. He blinks quickly, water threatening to overrun his lids.

“Whatever you do, don't touch your eyes,” Tycho cautions. “Then you'll really be in trouble.”

Wes makes a distressed noise and presses both hands flat to the table. “I'm okay,” he mutters. “I'm okay.” He blinks again, tears spilling over and trickling down his cheeks.

“You sure you're okay?” Hobbie asks cautiously. “Are your eyes supposed to be doing that?”

The glare Wes gives him in return is weakened somewhat by his state. Then it's broken as he coughs powerfully, everyone wincing at it turns into a gag, but he manages to hold the thing down. “I'm _okay_ ,” he says again, but now he's eyeing the bottle of milk like he's trying to decide whether the pain he's in is worse than the potential humiliation of failing the challenge and doing so in front of his friends.

Wedge prods him under the table and gives him a look. Three other pairs of eyes watch intently.

After a long, tense moment, Wes groans loudly and grabs for the bottle, unscrewing the cap and chugging half of it in one go, then gasping for air. Wedge deactivates the camera, puts down the datapad, retrieves a napkin from the middle of the table.

“May I?”

“Yes, dab his brow, mom,” Tycho coos and receives a pair of matching glares.

Wedge does, wiping sweat from Wes's face as the other man groans, collapsing forward to hide his face in Wedge's shoulder when he's done. “Why did you let me do that?” he whines.

“I don't _let_ you do anything,” Wedge grumbles. “You're a big boy. You make your own bad decisions.”

“You're my boyfriend; you're supposed to take care of me.”

Wedge rolls his eyes expansively but runs a hand through Wes's damp hair. “You _are_ lucky I like you enough to take care of you after stunts like this.”

Wes mutters something that might be agreement, but it's covered up by the laughter of the rest of the group.


End file.
